


Even You, The Terror of Morocco...

by leftrightleftrighthutpresentarms



Category: Aarne "The Terror of Morocco" Juutilainen - Fandom, Aarne Juutilainen - Fandom, Continuation War - Fandom, Winter War - Fandom
Genre: Aarne Juutilainen - Freeform, Because even the strongest ones deserve happiness, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, He had problems with alcohol, Marokon Kauhu, Other, Terror of Morocco, What Have I Done, Winter War, talvisota
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29631924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftrightleftrighthutpresentarms/pseuds/leftrightleftrighthutpresentarms
Summary: Written from an unnamed soldier's POV to Juutilainen, Aarne Juutilainen is found drinking again in his tent. The unnamed soldier proceeds to try to help him take the alcohol away and tucks him in blankets.
Relationships: Aarne Juutilainen/Unnamed Lover
Comments: 5
Kudos: 2





	1. If Only You Could Understand...

**Author's Note:**

> DAMN IT I JUST LEARNT THAT HE WAS MARRIED. OH MY. I HAD SEARCHED SPEACIALLY FOR THAT LIKE 10 TIMWS BUT DAMN, I FIND IT ONLY RECENTLY, TRANSLATING FINNISH PARAGRAPHS OF FINNISH WIKIPEDIA. NICE. FEELING UNCOMFORTABLE AS HELL NOW.
> 
> So.  
> Either imagine the main character as his wife (deleted the male x male tag...), or imagine this as a whole other fiction world or something (ah f-ing hell. Please comment and help me out. Should I edit this to make it about Häyhä -who never married-? Should I delete it? Or edit the tags to make the relationship "other", implying his wife? F- it, I will edit the tag now to make it like that. Alright, this is his wife, okay?   
> DAMN IT HOW DO I LEARN IT NOW? LIKE, NOW? 10 TIMES RESEARCH BRINGS NOTHING AND I LEARN IT NOW? UNCOMFORTABLE AS HELL.)

Last night, I found you drinking again.

I can sense it somehow, you know it. Something makes my feet walk up to your tent, I enter, then I see you drinking.

It’s always a sigh from me. And you? You smile. You have a drunk smile, it makes your eyes blurry and your grin wide. It brings me comfort, I will admit… yet you being drunk is something that we should get rid of.

You shouldn’t smile that warmly when drunk. It makes me want to let you drink as much as you want, just to see you happy. You shouldn’t do that.

You sometimes shrugged and said that it kept you warm. We both knew that there were better ways to keep warm -you could have worn your woollen coat, for example.

After a while, you started to admit it. We both knew it. You and drinking, a hard-to-separate pair. I would enter the tent, sigh, sit next to you.  
Just like last night.

“Aarne…”

Your grin showed your teeth, not-so-well aligned but lovely anyway. You weren’t afraid to smile. I could say that you were aware of what I would say. You drank from the bottle once again, your gaze following me as I sat down next to you.

I sighed. That’s when you put the bottle to the other side. In a drunkish-tired tone, you spoke:

“I know, I know… Yes, ’m drinking again.”

“Aarne, maybe we should get rid of all the alcohol.”

You shrugged. You knew that we should have done that, long long ago. Yet, you simply didn’t want to.

“Maybe we should.”

And I simply couldn’t.

So I sighed again. You continued:

“I know it bothers you… but that’s my life, my health…”

“That is not a good excuse.”

“ ‘M not good at excuses.”

You lifted your chin up, looked at the ceiling of the tent, stretched. Then your blue eyes caught my gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that, Aarne.”

“Why? Because I drink?”

“I just want you to take care of your health.”

You smiled. This time, I could sense something broken. Maybe I shouldn’t have talked about it, maybe I shouldn’t have spoken at all. Maybe I shouldn’t have entered the tent…

“Nothing you can do. Things weren’t easy.”

I supported my face with my hands and studied your expression. You looked thoughtful but not as serious as usual. Thinking of the past would become easier for you whenever you drank. Maybe your memories became lighter, maybe you liked the numbness. I have never asked you, though.

“Aarne, but…”

“I was young, really young. War and I, some kind of a bond. The way those cold cartridges touch your fingers, cannot let it go. I took every way to lead myself into wars of all kind. I know nothing else, no other route.”

I could not say anything. What could I even say to you? Your war-hardened fingers, well-defined veins on your hands… Your eyes always studied the land for any kind of threat, even in the safest of places… War and you, some kind of a bond. I can never break that, but if only I could break the slow-destruction of alcohol…

I let the silence take over. You seemed like you were thinking again, God knows what. Just when you took the bottle again, I held your wrist gently.

Your eyebrows were raised with surprise. You pulled the bottle to yourself, slow and drunk movements. I put my other hand in the equation and you let me win. Defeated, you smiled again.

Seeing that smile, I wanted to give the bottle back to you. But that would only be temporary. For a temporary smile of yours, I couldn’t risk your health. However, that smile… Without worries, without the future, just the moment and just the warmth. It could take my mind away.

I spoke slowly, trying to find random words just to break the silence:

“The hour… It’s pretty late, you… I think you should sleep, right?”

Your gaze shifted from the bottle to my eyes, electrifying my soul:

“Maybe I should.”

I put the bottle further away, yet your eyes were still on mine. I sighed, got up, and poured the little remaining alcohol on the ground. You didn’t even object to that. Your hands were clasped, you were leaning back. I opened the exit of the tent to go… Then something made me look behind.

Your head was tilted to the side. A faint melody filled the room, coming from your mouth. You were humming a song so familiar. With the empty bottle still in my hand, I was frozen.

I could hardly speak:

“Good night, Aarne.”

You didn’t even answer. You seemed still, almost like a statue if you weren’t humming.

I shook my head, stepping towards you.

You sitting, me standing in front of you, you raised your chin to look at my face. Your voice was occasionally shaky, yet quite warm and happy. Happy is an adjective that I almost never use while describing you, so it meant everything to me at that moment.

I put my hand on your shoulder, leaning in to make you understand:

“You have to sleep, Aarne, you have to sleep…”

You didn’t answer. I held your hand and pulled you to your feet. Your balance wasn’t quite bad, but you needed support. Just a few steps and we were in front of the pile of blankets that you used as a bed.

I prepared your bed for you, then you sat on it.

“Here, here. Good night, Aarne. See you tomorrow.”

Just as I was about to walk to the exit, you spoke, catching me off-guard:

“You know, I can never get drunk.”

That confused me. You continued:

“How can I ever get drunk? I always remember.”

“Aarne, you are quite drunk now…”

“No, I never am. Only blur comes to me, that’s what I drink for. Blurry past is better than a clear past.”

“No, no. That is a sign of being drunk. Also, just because you remember, doesn’t show that you are sober.”

“Well... Maybe ‘m a little drowsy…”

“Quite drowsy, Aarne, quite.”

You let yourself fall on your back to your bed, looking at the ceiling. You didn’t even bother to pull a blanket on yourself, so I approached you again. I kneeled down, tucked you under two layers of blankets. You smiled.

You smiled. Those two words, my eternal curse. Actually a blessing to my heart, but it is just like a weapon to my logic. I always surrender to that.  
I ran my fingers through your hair. Your smile widened, you seemed calm.

I sat down comfortably and sighed:

“What am I going to do with you, Aarne?”

You murmured something. I couldn’t hear it at all. Just looked into your eyes and saw that they were half-closed. You turned to me in your bed, laying on your side. I continued playing with your hair.

You repeated what you said, a little clearer this time:

“You don’t have to do much.”

“I just want you to be healthy.”

“Why care much?”

“Because you are far more… invaluable than you can think.”

Your lips repeatedly muttered “no, 'm not” sleepily. But you were defeated again.

When my fingers brushed your cheek, your smile came back.

That’s when I got close to you and whispered in your ear:

“If only you could understand…”

You opened your eyes, waiting for the rest. All you got was a sigh from me.

If only you could understand how much I care about you.

Maybe you read my mind, you lifted the blankets to invite me in. So I hesitatingly got under those. We both had our daily clothes on, not even pyjamas. Yet, it didn’t matter.

It was warmth. It had been so long since we have last felt the heartbeats of another living being. I think it was when I was leaving home, hearing my mother’s worried heartbeats. Now the heartbeats of yours, calm and soft, I could even hear mine match those.

And skin. It had been so long since the skin we have touched was warm. When you shifted closer to me and smiled, resting your head on my heart, it was warmer than anything.

My hand back in your hair, you were calm. Stroking your closed eyelids softly, I decided that you were asleep, so I spoke softly, maybe expecting the night to hold it and fill it into your next bottle of alcohol:

“You are precious.”

Maybe I saw you smile in your sleep. Maybe it was an illusion. I didn’t care.

You, safe in my arms. It was all I needed.

Because even you, The Terror of Morocco, need warmth and a tight embrace.

Even you need to feel safe, to let your guard down for a little while and rest.


	2. "You Keep Trying To Save Me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning when Aarne Juutilainen wakes up in the arms of the unnamed soldier.

When I opened my eyes, you were still in my arms.

We were so close, warmly cuddling under two layers of blankets. I’ve never had such a deep and calm sleep in my life.

Holding my breath for a few seconds, I sensed your heartbeats. I listened to them, they were so melodic with a soft rhythm. I looked at your face, my gaze avoiding your closed eyes as if I were afraid of waking you up.

You seemed quite peaceful. Your lips slightly parted, inhaling and exhaling through your mouth. Your forehead lines were not as tight as they were during the days. It looked like you were purified from all the worry and the stress. I wanted to keep that moment forever.

When I finally let my breath out, I sighed. I couldn’t help but hold you slightly tighter.

Some moments feel so fragile that it feels like even the sunlight should not touch them. Away from anything material, I wanted to keep only you and me. We could have our own void, fill it with warmth and all. That would be more than enough for me. But… what if your mind did a trick and made you slip back? Would my arms be able to hold you safe?

You opened your eyes.

I saw an expression of surprise. I felt my cheeks burning. My fingers found your hair, started playing with it as I held you closer to me.

I felt you open your mouth. You were muttering something. I didn’t even dare to listen.

Do you even realise how much I fear you hating me? I muttered, blocking your words, over and over:

“Sorry, I am so sorry, sorry…”

You shushed me with just a smile. This time, it was not drunk.

It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I saw the magnificent northern lights on your lips. I saw the snowy Karelia in your eyes. Your smile lines carried the long forest roads. I saw a home in you.

Then you started humming the melody from yesterday night. I sighed, closing my eyes and focusing on the warmth. I still wasn’t able to make out the name of the song, but it was all okay. I felt a wave of idleness wash over me, a possibility of sleep lingering in my mind…

Nothing felt real when I felt you bury your nose in my neck. Shifting as close as you could get to me, you put your fingers between mine.

You whispered, your warm breath tingling my skin:

“You keep trying to save me.”

With a low whisper, either from sleepiness or breathlessness, I replied:

“I will do whatever it takes.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“But I will. No matter what.”

Your heartbeats came even closer to mine. Both rhythms quickening, I couldn’t decide if it was a moment of eternal calmness or excitement.

Opening my eyes, I saw your face right in front of mine. Your blue eyes, as pale as ice but as warm as fire, embraced my gaze. I couldn’t look away, captured.

Your fingers dancing on mine, you whispered. This time your warm breath was mixing with mine:

“I’m afraid of taking you down with me. Just let me destroy myself, don’t get in the way…”

“Aarne…”

“Listen to me, you cannot magically save me...”

I couldn’t take those words, you know? I can’t handle knowing that your thoughts and your past are enslaving you. I can’t handle not being able to help you. Giving up on you would be like giving up on breathing… and you know that I have no intention of doing that.

With a bold move, I cupped your cheek. That cut your words.

You lowered your gaze, looking at my hand. I brushed your skin softly and spoke:

“Aarne.”

You didn’t move. I repeated, stronger this time:

“Aarne.”

Your blue eyes pierced my soul when you directed them to mine. I inhaled deeply:

“I am not afraid of falling if it means falling with you.”

You put your hand on mine. You had a broken tone as you whispered:

“You will surely regret it.”

I felt helpless.

I am not a beacon of hope or happiness. I had mined through the stone of my heart to find little pieces of hope to share with you. When you didn’t believe in it, I felt helpless.

Who was I, without wings to protect you from any threat? Who was I, without magical powers to protect you from your own past?

I pulled you to my chest, just because I couldn’t let you see my tears. You noticed those however, when I started sobbing and shaking, my tears falling on you.

I felt the vibrations of your silent muttering on my heart. All I could hear was my own voice, though:

“I am just a human being… with nothing… Even in this… this nothing I have… I want to give you… some… some light…”

You escaped my tight hug. Your hands were bold this time, pulling my head closer to you. Pressing our foreheads together, you whispered with your eyes closed:

“I know, I know.”

You shushed my sobs with a finger brushing my lips. My tears were wiped warmly by your thumb, the tip of your nose, even your cheek.

I was still trying to assure you:

“I’m aware that you… you know no other route… but you gotta try, Aarne… I will hold your hand… I will help you walk… walk through this…”

Then suddenly, your lips planted a little kiss on the tip of my nose.

Shocked, I looked at your face. My mouth was dry.

You had a shy smile, battling with a hint of sadness. However, you let your smile take over, showing off your imperfect set of teeth that I love dearly.

I smiled. With the tears still fresh in my eyes, I smiled.

Your fingers tried to play with my hair, clumsily. They often got tangled. My smile turned into a chuckle, which earned me another little kiss on the nose.

And when you did it for the third time, it was not quick. You let your lips stay a little while, brushing my skin.

Have you ever realised how much I love you, Aarne?

I think you have.

Something in the way you looked at me even after we got up, got on our feet, adjusted our uniforms… I would say that you were admiring me, but… I don’t think I have anything to be admired.

And when you walked up to me, looking serious and preoccupied with daily tasks, I wasn’t expecting a hug from you. I definitely wasn’t expecting you to lift my chin and plant another kiss on the tip of my nose. Even after that, I wasn’t expecting a genuine, sober smile and the sweet melody of your voice speaking as you gave me your gloves:

“Your nose is cold, you have to keep warm.”

I think you love me too, Aarne.

I mean, just a few minutes ago, you hugged me and let me run my fingers through your hair. You looked like a wolf with messy fur, I told you this and you chuckled. It was pretty sweet.

The sweetest thing to me however, was when my eyes were scanning around your tent for a bottle of alcohol and you noticed it, saying:

“I’m trying to stay sober.”

You love me, don’t you, Aarne? I can read your heartbeats as they rest next to mine. Your fingers trace it on my cheeks and chin. Even your lips, Aarne, they tell that to the tip of my nose. And finally, your mouth tells it now:

“I love you.”

Then my mouth replies. Not with words though, just by embracing yours.

Your every pain, we will fight them together, Aarne. We will fail occasionally, but we will fail together. Then we will get up together.

As you pull me to yourself again, nothing matters on this earth.

I got my home in your eyes, your heart, your hair, your cheeks, your lips.

You don’t smell like alcohol anymore. You smell like a mix of the forest and snow, it captures me and takes my breath away.

Also your smile, Aarne.

It’s not drunk anymore.

Wider than ever, warmer than ever. Sober.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is.  
> I have nothing to say.  
> It was sweet to write this...

**Author's Note:**

> Ah damn. Ah hell.   
> Whatever.  
> Aarne really deserved happiness. He was often unstable, yeah, but I wish something could give him some kind of happiness, you know?  
> This brings me another fic idea.


End file.
